


Sentimental Memory

by clover71



Category: Uta no Prince-sama
Genre: Community: picfor1000, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 10:49:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6114186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clover71/pseuds/clover71
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The image of a smiling face framed in red flashed in his mind the moment he saw the guitar sitting by the pawnshop's window.</p><p>***</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sentimental Memory

**Author's Note:**

> \- Written for the [Pic for 1000 challenge](http://picfor1000.livejournal.com/) in LiveJournal and [this is my assigned photo prompt](https://www.flickr.com/photos/aliceblue/2278236467).  
> \- I initially tried for a free-form then later edited to make sure it remains within the required 1000 word count.  
> \- Also, I thought I'd try a different technique so I aimed for an allegory and non-linear narrative. I probably failed in allegory though there are metaphors thrown here and there that I'll leave for readers to interpret. If you get confused, then I probably succeeded in the non-linear narrative part.  
> \- ETA: (6.21.2016) Excuse the sour attitude but I'm extremely stressed out with work, exhausted from meeting deadlines and dealing with bastards I come across with in real life, so spare me. Writing fanfics is my escape from all that so I write for myself, not for anyone else, and I post it here because this is my sanctuary. Anyone who comes across my fics are welcome to read but I am not asking for critique. I don't need it. If I do, I'll say so in my notes. If I don't say anything, that means I am not asking for it. I don't even expect reviews, but if you want to leave one in reaction to the story itself, feel free to do so. I have long established my writing styles, been writing for decades, so I don't need my writing to be judged, especially if it's merely a fan fiction, unless I specifically ask for it.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own Uta no Prince-sama and its characters. Copyright remains with the game developer, Nippon Ichi Software, Inc., the game's publisher, Broccoli, and the anime creator A-1 Pictures.  
> .  
> .

*

The image of a smiling face framed in red flashed in his mind the moment he saw the guitar sitting by the pawnshop's window. His reflection on the clear glass stared back at him, eyes turquoise-blue and shadowed by ghosts of the past. 

The past he thought he had painstakingly buried into the deepest recesses of his mind resurfaced. The past that had been hounding him finally caught up, backing him into a corner.

 _What have I been doing?_

For four years, he'd been living like a vagabond, chasing clouds that wouldn't stay still, running away from all those years he'd lived in the public eye. From the nine years he'd been with STARISH, surrounded by famous people, by famous friends. Nine years they'd basked under adoring gazes of fans. 

It was in the summer, amidst the many idols – younger, more vibrant and fresh – rising in popularity, when they decided to take their final bow, to have their last curtain call and let the spotlights fade around them. 

It was over. None of them had any regrets. 

On a hot day, when hundreds of wagtails flew out of Shining manor's garden perhaps to find a cooler area, Tokiya decided it was time to spread his wings as well and left.

"To travel the world," was what he'd told the reporter when asked what his plans were and he thoughtfully added, "To do some soul-searching."

But he hadn't really been able to find his soul. Because deep inside, he knew where his soul dwelt. 

_It ends here,_ said the voice at the back of his head. _Time to stop running,_

Tokiya packed his bags and let the wind carry him back to where he started.

.

* * *

.

Behind the curtains, out of the flashing lights and beyond the smile, he saw the vulnerable side of his roommate… his friend. 

Though Otoya often wore an optimistic façade, Tokiya had learned to see past through those colorful layers. He'd seen the sadness hidden beneath stretched lips when Otoya had met his mother, only to realize she had no memory of him. He'd witnessed the chaos that went through Otoya's mind when he discovered who his father was, despite him dancing around the issue with a brave face.

It was on the night when Otoya had peeled off his mask and cried on Tokiya's shoulder that Tokiya realized how strong their connection was. His heart not only ached for his friend, but had unfurled emotions that left Tokiya disconcerted.

.

* * *

.

Bach played in the background, too soft to drown the incessant chatters around them. Chandeliers sparkled on the ceiling and bathed the entire room in soft lights, its gentle rays highlighting the peaceful expression resting on the face of the man sitting across him.

He appeared content. Happy. Tokiya felt the poisonous sting of envy.

Four years had been kind to Masato, it seemed. He still wrote music, but worked more behind the camera, so to speak. He now owned this restaurant with Ren.

"Last I saw him was over a year and a half ago," Masato said and took a sip of his wine. "He worked for the agency for a while then helped manage the orphanage he grew up in until it was bought by a developing company that turned the entire neighborhood into a business compound."

"I see." A year and a half. Tokiya was beginning to lose hope. He'd visited Natsuki and Syo and Cecil. Neither of them had seen Otoya in the past year. 

"Ren did help them relocate," was what Masato said next, sparking hope within Tokiya. "He bought a property and turned it over to Otoya." Masato whipped out his phone, presumably to call his business partner, life partner, and partner in general. 

When Ren's name spilled from Masato's mouth followed by a demand, not request, for the address of the orphanage, Tokiya had to keep a tight grasp on self-control, knowing that kissing Masato right then would be a bad idea.

.

* * *

.

The kiss was an accident. At least that's what he wanted to believe. Running into his father unexpectedly and hearing those words thrown at him like daggers had left Tokiya fuming and feeling utterly frustrated. Otoya was there like always, offering him comfort, an attentive ear, a shoulder to cry on.

Tokiya could blame it on the gentle hand that stroke his back, those deft fingers carding through his hair, the melodic voice soothing his pain. Otoya was like the sun that gave him warmth on a cold, dark day that the feelings he'd been nursing all those years rolled together and burst out of his chest. 

The confusion that Tokiya saw swirling in those scarlet orbs the moment he pulled away scared him that Tokiya desperately sought out a way to escape.

.

* * *

.

"Why did you leave?" Syo asked the next time they met, the sun burning brightly above them.

Tokiya fought the temptation to vomit lies so he shrugged instead. "I was a coward."

.

* * *

.

The yellow building stood out amongst white and gray, children's laughter echoing across its premises. He walked through the gates, expecting to be stopped by someone, anyone that wasn't the familiar face he actually met near the entrance.

His name fell from the man's lips, spoken quietly. Reverently. He looked the same, almost, his red hair a little longer with the tips curling on his neck. Carmine eyes stared at him, pinning him in place.

"Hello Otoya," The greeting was casual, stolid, the total opposite of the emotions swirling in his chest. 

The fear of being turned away, of being treated like a stranger dissipated when Otoya threw himself at him, arms clamping over his shoulders.

"I missed you," was whispered in his ear. 

Tokiya wanted to say, _I missed you too,_ but the words failed to form. What came out of his mouth instead was, "I'm here," as he held Otoya close. "Tadaima." The word had never held so much meaning, because Tokiya did feel he was finally home.

"Okaeri nasai, Tokiya."

.  
*


End file.
